


Strictly Professional

by greysynonyms



Category: X-Ray & Vav (Cartoon)
Genre: 5 Times, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair-pulling, Kilts, M/M, Maybe slightly, Minor Character Death, Obsessive Behavior, Out of Character, Praise Kink, Prison, Rimming, Ryan being as devious as ever, Sexual favors in exchange for information, Slow-Mo Gloves, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Super Villains, Superheroes, Superpowers, Violence, hero to villain, kind of, thigh kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greysynonyms/pseuds/greysynonyms
Summary: Four times Vav almost lost his mind and one time he really did.





	Strictly Professional

**I.**

       It’s professional, _strictly_ professional, a strictly professional meeting where he’s not going to do anything but be completely, utterly (guess what?) **professional** \--but if it was really professional, why would he need to keep reminding himself? Why would he need to remind himself not to _stare_ , why would he need to convince himself that the man’s eyes _aren’t_ his favorite shade of blue, why would he need to convince himself that the chills he feels when he looks at him are only from _fear_ and from nothing else?

       Why was one of the first memories he had of him a memory of how good his legs look in a kilt, how he’d like to use his gloves and watch every muscle contraction in slow-motion? Was that something that normal people thought? Although, he’d never really considered himself normal, but it wasn’t weird, right? It was just a superhero appreciating the build of a man who looked like he could crush his head between his thighs if he wanted (and oh, he really wouldn’t mind having his head---no, no, _no_ \--scratch that last thought).

       Vav approaches the metal bars of the prison cell with unsteady steps--because he’s nervous, not because his suit suddenly feels a little too tight and his face suddenly feels a little too warm. He’s beginning to regret not taking X-Ray with him, and now he’s regretting telling the guard that he wouldn’t need any supervision; and what kind of prison guard did that anyway? He just took Vav’s word like it was nothing, just because he was a superhero, and now the British man is left alone with one of the most heinous super-villains in the entire city. Maybe it’s not too late to back out, to come back later with X-Ray at his side, maybe the man hadn’t even seen that he’s there yet, maybe--

       “Vav,” a deep voice drawls. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

       Vav chokes on his next breath, sputters and coughs, and his face burns bright red because now he’s been caught and he can’t run away like his nerves are screaming at him to. He hears a chuckle and manages to look up; he immediately wishes that he hadn’t because the Mad King is staring down at him with bright eyes and a devilish smirk on his handsome ( _handsome?!_ He did **not** just think that) face.

       It’s been awhile since he’s seen the Mad King--he expected the man to look worn down after being kept behind bars for so long, but he fills out his blue jumpsuit like it’s made for him, the fabric stretching _just right_ over the expanse of his wide chest and around his pronounced biceps. He looks different without the crown and the kilt, with less leg exposed, but he doesn’t look vulnerable (like Vav had thought he would), he actually looks as in-control of the situation as ever and it’s infuriating.

       “I’d offer to give you CPR but I can’t exactly reach you right now,” the Mad King teases, pointedly taking hold of the prison bars and attempting to shake them.

       Vav is suddenly incredibly grateful for the bars that separate the two of them, and for the dim lighting throughout the prison, because at least the man won’t be able to see just how red his face is (hopefully). “I--I need info about the Corpirate,” Vav squawks, because it’s the truth, it’s why he’s here. He and X-Ray had reached a dead-end in their investigation, one that not even Hilda had been able to help with, and turning to the Mad King had been a final resort that X-Ray wasn’t exactly happy with--which was why Vav was alone. So _maybe_ he hadn’t told his partner about this little visit, but it would be fine, he’d just get the information, bring it back to X-Ray, and rub it in his partner’s face that his plan had worked. Yes, that’s exactly what he would do.

       The Mad King hums thoughtfully. “And what do I get out of this?”

       “What?”

       The man outright laughs then, and it serves only to embarrass the superhero further. “Oh, _Vav_ ,” he draws out the name in what can only be described as a sultry manner and it makes the hairs on the back of Vav’s neck raise, “you might be willing to work for free--all heroes are, after all--but I expect some sort of... _compensation_ for my services.”

       Vav’s throat feels incredibly dry when he tries to speak. “W-What sort of com--compensation?”

       The Mad King’s perpetual smirk splits into something more sinister. “I can think of a few things,” he says lowly. “Though I’m not sure you’ll like most of them--how important is this information to you?”

       Vav actually thinks about it for a second, but he already knows how important it is; they can’t find the Corpirate at all, have searched every corner of the city they could think to search, and they’ve come up empty handed time and time again. Hilda has expressed worry several times that not finding him is giving him all the time he needs to plan something exceptionally devious--they don’t have _time_ left to keep searching blind. “It’s important,” the hero answers resolutely.

       The Mad King hums, seemingly pleased. “Good,” he says. He steps closer to the bars of the cell, motioning with a tilt of his head for Vav to do the same.

       Vav hesitantly scoots forward, just a fraction, but the man doesn’t seem satisfied with just that (if the exaggerated roll of his eyes is anything to go by) so he cautiously steps forward until his face his nearly pressed against the cool metal of the bars. His instinct screams at him to back up, especially when the Mad King leans forward enough that the hero feels a puff of hot air across his cheek, but he stands his ground.

       The Mad King delights in the way that the hero bristles under the proximity but refuses to back away and can’t help himself from leaning that much closer. “As good as I look in this bland color, I’m not entirely fond of this attire. Bring me something a little more my style and I’m sure I can start to help you.” He moves close enough to just barely brush his lips against Vav’s on the last word and then laughs triumphantly when the hero jumps away from the cell like he’s been burned. “Think you can manage that, Vav?”

       Vav’s lips feel like they’ve been jolted with an electric current, the feeling moving out through each of his limbs and leaving him feeling a little numb. He glares at the man behind the bars as best he can but it must be pretty lackluster because the Mad King simply grins back. “I’ll get you your damn clothes back,” he mutters, “and you’d better help us after I do.” He watches the man’s eyes flash and part of him regrets giving the command--but he shouldn’t, right? The Mad King seems to think he’s in control of the situation even though he’s the one behind the bars and Vav can’t have that. “Deal?” he asks.

       “You have my word,” the Mad King nods.

       Vav turns on his heel and leaves, ignoring the feeling of eyes on his back, ignoring the way it feels like he’s running away even though the villain had agreed to his terms, and _definitely_ ignoring the tingling feeling where their lips had touched.

  
  
**II.**

       He still hasn’t told X-Ray. It’s been about a week since he visited the prison--he has a pile of neatly folded clothes sitting in the corner of his closet: a crisp, white, button-down shirt, a red and black plaid kilt, and a pair of knee-high white socks (with bows on them because he's not letting the Mad King live through this ordeal without some embarrassment of his own)--and he still hasn’t told X-Ray about the meeting. He feels a little guilty about it but he continues to remind himself that it's for the sake of the city, the choice a real hero would make, and that X-Ray would only make the situation worse if he knew.

       So now here he is, in the prison without his partner again, having told X-Ray and Hilda another lie about where he was actually going (a date, he had told them, and they had given him friendly pats on the back and told him it was good, that he could use the break, that they would keep searching while he was gone). The guard is a little more hesitant to let Vav go in alone this time, especially when he sees the bag that the hero holds; Vav explains that it’s necessary, that he’s doing what he’s doing to save the city, and the guard eventually relents and lets him go.

       The hero breathes a sigh of relief when the door closes behind him, though he’s not sure why because the man he’s stuck with now is _much_ more frightening than the guard. He clutches the handle of the bag he holds a little harder and steps into the dim ring of light that emanates from the flickering light in the prison cell.

       The Mad King is sitting on his cot, looking up with obvious disdain at the flashing light; when he notices Vav his sneer twists up into a smirk and he stands. “Vav!” he acknowledges in a happy-sounding, almost patronizing sort of way. He stretches his arms above his head, “I was starting to think you weren’t going to return.”

       Vav watches as the broad man stretches and his shirt rides up enough to expose angular hip-bones and a trail of hair under his belly-button that disappears into the line of his pants. Unconsciously, his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

       “Enjoying the show?” the Mad King asks. “I can give you a better one as soon as you give me what I requested.”

       Vav squeaks, flounders for something to say, but he can’t find any words because he was just caught ogling the man and he can’t even deny it. “Here,” he says, stiffly holding out the bag towards the Mad King. “Now tell me what you know about the Corpirate.”

       The Mad King cocks an eyebrow and reaches through the bars to take the bag; he doesn’t say anything right away, simply looks into the bag and grins at what he sees. “Very good, Vav,” he nearly purrs.

       The hero ignores the way the flush on his cheek rushes suddenly south when he hears the praise. Images flash through his mind before he can filter them--large hands in his hair, pushing his head down _just_ enough, more praise in that deep voice--

       “Vav?”

       Vav shakes his head and quickly steps back, away from the light so that the Mad King won’t be able to see him as well as he could before, because his face is redder than his spandex (and his spandex is tighter than it should be). He watches the villain step forward, and he’s sure he can’t see him well, that he’s searching the darkness for him, but his eyes seem like they _rake_ appreciatively over the hero’s body from head to toe and it causes goosebumps to rise on his flesh.

       “Did you hear what I said?” the Mad King asks in a voice that’s lower, raspier, than it was before.

_Professional_ , Vav reminds himself: _professional, professional, professional_. “Y-You said good job, on the, um,” he clears his throat, “clothes?”

       The Mad King’s face splits into a grin that does very _unprofessional_ things to Vav’s body. “I said something after that.”

       “Oh. Well--no, I didn’t hear that.”

       “The Corpirate,” the villain reiterates slowly, “he’s working on a device that will control the minds of the citizens to create an army--or a ‘ _crew_ ’ as he likes to call it.”

       That catches Vav’s attention and he feels like an idiot for getting so flustered, so distracted, when there’s something so pressing threatening the city even as they speak. “How do you know?”

       “Oh, he had me build the amplification device for his little toy.”

       Vav feels sweat bloom on his forehead--that’s not good, that’s really, really, _really_ not good. “Do you know where we can find him?”

       “Oh, I have a few ideas,” the Mad King nods. He turns and places the bag Vav brought him on his cot, then proceeds to lift his shirt up over his head in one fluid motion. “But I’ll need more from you if you want to know.”

       Seven hells, the man is _built_. Vav’s eyes wander the dips in his back, the thick lines of his neck that extend down into the broad expanse of his shoulders. He turns to give Vav a knowing look, his blue eyes dark, speaking promises of sin, but the hero doesn’t even think to look away. “That’s a load of rubbish, wouldn’t you say?” he inquires.

       The villain laughs, a deep rumble, and turns to expose his naked chest and arms to the hero’s roaming gaze. “Vav,” he sound like a parent scolding a child, “have I not already told you? I don’t work for free.”

       Vav swallows thickly. “What do you want this time?”

       The Mad King makes a show of thinking about it for a moment. “How about you come in here and find out?” he asks suggestively.

       Vav’s mouth drops open and he fumbles for the door faster than he can blink, trying and failing a few times to turn the handle because the Mad King is laughing again and it’s distracting as all get-out (just his laugh, _not_ the fact that his laugh causes the muscles in his stomach contract or  his eyes to pinch at the corners--it’s just, y’know, he’s never heard a voice that deep before). He finally manages to get a grip on the handle and slams the door open; the second he steps through the door-frame he inhales noisily through his nose, like he had momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

       “Oh, Vav?” the Mad King calls out to him as the door swings shut. “Don’t forget to protect that pretty little head of yours.”

 

**III.**

       He must be out of his mind, he _must_ be--something must have happened to his head because he’s pretty sure his brain isn’t functioning properly (or at all) anymore. X-Ray and Hilda are getting suspicious, because Vav is acting suspicious, and he’s not sure how much longer they’ll continue to accept his ‘ _date_ ’ excuse--he’d be surprised if they’d accept it again at all, honestly. He had been so out of his mind that he had blurted to them that the Corpirate was working on mind control; at first they had laughed in his face, ruled it out as desperation, but once he had gotten them to believe him they hadn’t stopped asking him how he knew. X-Ray had been sticking pretty close to him ever since then.

       It’s been weeks and he’s lost track of the number of days since he last saw the Mad King (no he hasn’t: it’s been exactly 16 days, 7 hours, and 24-ish minutes). He doesn’t **want** to, but he knows that he’s going to have to see the villain again--for the sake of the city. He’ll have to go alone, too, because--well, because X-Ray hasn’t been involved in this since the beginning, and what happens if the Mad King changes his mind if both of them show up? It would just be safer if Vav went alone again.

       Vav sneaks out in the middle of the night because it’s the only time he can get away from X-Ray without being followed by his friend. He actually _breaks_ _into_ the prison, sneaks past all the guards, and then borrows one of their computers for just a moment to deactivate the security cameras in the Mad King’s vicinity (thank goodness he’s tech savvy, and _thank goodness_ he manages to get around the guards without being seen). He has to deactivate the cameras because if they find out that he, a class-act superhero, broke into the prison to speak with a villain it’ll ruin X-Ray and Vav’s reputations as good heroes, and as much as breaking into a prison _feels_ like a cruddy thing for a class-act superhero to do, he remembers how hesitant the guard had been to let him in last time and he doesn’t have any time to waste on arguments like that.

       He also has to slow down one of the guards momentarily, just long enough to grab the keys off his belt-loop, because, well, you never know. If the Mad King happens to break out tonight Vav will need to get him back into a cell and locked up (because that’s what heroes _do_ )--that’s what he tells himself, and, yeah, it makes sense, the guy is pretty powerful after all. He could probably break out whenever he wanted to.

       When he approaches the Mad King’s cell and sees the man he feels like he can breathe properly for the first time in nearly seventeen days (but he ignores that because it’s weird and this is still professional). He’s lying down on his cot, eyes closed, arms folded behind his head; he’s wearing the clothes Vav brought him, and _goddammit_ socks with bows are  **not** supposed to look that good on him. He wonders for a moment how he’s managed to convince the guards to let him keep the clothes, but then he remembers how positively _terrifying_ the man can be and he can’t really blame anyone for not wanting to argue with him about something as simple as wearing a prison jumpsuit. Vav carefully pushes one of the keys into the keyhole of the cell--he does that three more times before he finally finds the right key--and opens the door as quietly as he can. When the man doesn’t stir he gently closes the door, re-locks it, and then drops the keys into his super over-undies. He hasn’t been this close to the Mad King in a **long** time and it’s almost surreal to no longer have the bars separating the two of them. He clears his throat awkwardly, hoping it’ll be enough to wake the man up. Evidently, it is.

       The Mad King’s eyes flutter open and his expression turns feral when he notices someone is in the cell with him. He sits up fast, but then his eyes focus in on the figure and he realizes who it is and his posture relaxes almost immediately. “Vav,” he speaks, reaching up to run his fingers through his own tousled, blonde hair. “You’re back.”

       “I need to know where to find the Corpirate.”

       The villain’s eyebrow raises slowly and he tilts his head; he leans back against the wall and spreads his legs just a little wider. “And here I thought you just wanted to see me,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “How did you manage to get in here, Vav? It’s awfully late and I doubt the guards just handed over the keys to you so easily.”

       Vav’s eyes follow the movement of the Mad King’s legs, of the skin and powerful muscle left exposed by the kilt. “It--It doesn’t matter. Just tell me what I need to know, you bloke.” The Mad King crooks a finger at him, beckoning him closer, and Vav steps forward obediently until his knees press against the villain’s shins.

       The Mad King raises a hand, skimming his knuckles along the length of the hero’s thigh. “What are you willing to offer in exchange for the information?”

       Vav draws in a deep breath--he’s prepared for this--and leans forward, planting his gloved hands on either side of the Mad King’s head, leaning closer to him while maintaining eye contact. He’s breathless when he speaks, “Whatever you want.” Because he needs the information, he and X-Ray, he and X-Ray _and_ Hilda, because they’ll use it to save the city.

       The Mad King groans low in his throat and clutches at Vav’s thigh, dragging the hero forward until he falls into his lap. “That’s a bold statement,” he says, eyes blazing.

       Vav gasps because now he’s straddling those same powerful thighs he's spent so much time looking at and two large hands are squeezing his narrow hips. “I’m a hero,” he speaks, his breath shuddering out of his lungs, “I’ll do what I can to protect the city.” He rolls his hips against the villain’s and a whine escapes his throat when he feels the Mad King’s cock stir against him from under the kilt.

       The villain leans forward and nips at Vav’s jawline. “I’m sure that’s all this is,” he mutters against his skin, tightening his grip on the man in his lap. He’s honestly surprised that the hero isn’t putting up more resistance (is he really, though? He knew it would come to this someday as soon as he caught Vav staring at his legs mid-battle all those months ago) but he can’t exactly say he isn’t pleased with the outcome as he begins a steady rhythm with his hips, pushing up against the hero as he grinds down on him. Then, when Vav’s eyes screw shut and another one of those lovely noises that he makes fills the room, he reaches between them and palms the obvious bulge in the hero’s spandex.

       Vav keens and he forces his eyes open, forces his eyes to meet the blue ones staring up at him through a layer of thick eyelashes. “This is--this is strictly business,” he mumbles, cheeks heating, grabbing the wrist of the hand stroking him and forcing it back to his hip. He’s proud of himself, because this isn’t about him--he doesn’t want it to be **mutual** because that would mean he’s getting more out of it than just the information and he can’t, can’t, _can’t_ do that. He ignores the way the Mad King’s eyes darken with his words, and he ignores the strange sort of pang he feels in his chest when he sees that expression even harder. Before he can think too much about it he slides out of the man’s lap and onto his knees on the dirty prison floor.

       The Mad King’s eyes widen but he catches himself and resumes a neutral expression before the hero notices. He allows his head to roll back when he feels Vav’s gloved fingers skirt up the length of his inner thighs, gently parting his legs further so that he can settle comfortably between them.

       The hero brushes his lips across the hair-covered thigh tentatively and then chances a quick nip at the pale skin; he’s rewarded with a low noise of approval and thick fingers sliding into his hair. He keeps pressing kisses into the twin muscles that line the inside of the man’s thigh, enjoying the occasional tug against his scalp when the fingers tighten around his hair. He knows that he has to make this good, that it’s the only way he’ll get the information he wants, and he knows that the Mad King will be able to tell if he fakes it--that’s how he excuses away the moans leaving his own mouth with every kiss closer to where the villain wants him. He reaches the edge of the kilt and his fingers hook under the edge of the fabric and push it up.

       The villain smirks at the look on Vav’s face when he realizes that he’s wearing nothing but the kilt. It’s erotic, more than the Mad King was expecting, to see the young man kneeled between his legs, staring with wide eyes at the curved length of his exposed cock.

       Vav doesn’t hesitate after his initial shock, doesn’t give himself time to think about what he’s about to do, and he licks a stripe up the cock before eagerly taking it into his mouth. He’s out of practice, hasn’t done this in a _long_ time, but the stretch he feels in his jaw as he bobs his head further down sends pleasant chills skittering across his skin. He tries to take it all, really tries, but he’s always had a weak gag reflex and he can’t fit the entire thing without triggering it so he settles for hollowing out his cheeks and fisting his palm around what he can’t fit into his mouth. He hums encouragingly around the Mad King when the fingers in his hair tighten to the point of pain and push him down just enough to make his eyes water.

       The Mad King groans long and low when the hum from the hero’s mouth sends a jolt of pleasure straight to the pit of his stomach. He knows he won’t last long, not at this rate, not with such an innocent, inexperienced, _eager_ lad raking blunt nails into the skin of his hips like that. He holds Vav’s head down when he comes but he doesn’t think he needs to because the hero’s fingers tighten against his hips and he swallows every drop down like a man starved. His head drops back against the wall and he finally relents, untangling his fingers from the hero’s hair and letting him sit up. “Very good, Vav,” he mumbles, rubbing circles into the hero’s temple with his thumb.

       “Gavin,” Vav blurts. His head is fuzzy, the taste of the villain still on his tongue (but it’s pleasant, it’s not making him gag, he _likes_ it), and the praise he receives make his own cock twitch with interest.

       “Gavin,” the Mad King purrs, petting his fingers through the man’s now-messy hair. “The Corpirate keeps his toy in your beloved mayor’s office.”

       The hero almost asks what he’s talking about, why he’s bringing something like that up at a time like this, but he catches himself and bites his tongue before he says anything. Christ, he’s stupid; he needs to get out of here, to leave before he does anything he’s going to regret (anything **more** than what he’s already done because he definitely, _definitely_ regrets this, yep, no doubt). He’s so stupid. He presses his cheek against the Mad King’s thigh tiredly and thinks about just how fucking stupid he is.

 

**IV.**

       Vav rushes into the prison like a madman. He uses his slow-mo gloves to stop the guards that get in his way (he needs to, he doesn’t like that he has to use his powers on innocent civilians but he _needs_ to right now) and to steal a set of keys again--once he’s got them he barges through the door that leads to the Mad King’s cell and barricades it with a chair and whatever else he can find lying around. He can’t have the guards barging in, after all.

       He left X-Ray behind again, actually slowed his partner’s feet down so that he wouldn’t be able to follow him. He knows he'll eventually have to explain things to X-Ray, explain why he demanded to check the mayor’s office (which they did, they didn’t find anything, Vav really wishes he would have gotten the specifics on the location of whatever ‘toy’ they were looking for but he was a little distracted at the time), explain who he continues to get his information from. But there’s no time now, and he honestly doesn’t **want** to have to explain it at all because X-Ray will never understand.

       Vav all but throws himself against the bars of the cell and begins searching for the right key with shaking fingers.

       “Gavin?” the Mad King questions, standing and staring at the lad with confusion as he juggles the set of keys in his hands. He can hear the guards pounding at the door and he’d be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued. “What’s going on?”

       When he hears the villain use his real name all his breath leaves him in a rush because he forgot, he forgot he told him, but he can’t fret about it right now. As soon as the cell-door swings open he rips his gloves off his hands, grabs the Mad King by the collar of his white dress-shirt, and forces him backwards until his back hits the wall.

       The villain doesn’t even have time to think about what could be wrong before his back hits cool brick and the hero thrusts himself into his personal space.

       Vav leans up on his toes and _bites_ the Mad King right at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. He clings to the man, unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt so that he can trail wet kisses along his collarbones. “He took Hilda,” he explains through the kisses and gasps of air. “The Corpirate kidnapped her and we don’t know--we don’t know--we, we went to the mayor’s office but we didn’t find anything and, and now--”

       The Mad King grabs the slimmer man by the hips and slips a leg between his, pushing it up and smirking knowingly when the hero grinds down against him desperately.

       Thoughts of Hilda and X-Ray and everything else that is currently going wrong steadily slip away from Vav with each push of his hips against the thick thigh wedged between his legs. They’re still his number one priority, of course, but the villain doesn’t work for free and he has to maintain their professional nature, he can’t expect the Mad King to go back on their terms this late in the game. He makes a high-pitched squeal when the hands on his hips easily flip him around and shove him forward until his face is smushed uncomfortably between two cell bars. He leans over further, pushing his hips back insistently against the hard body behind him, and he reaches up and grips the bars tight to maintain his balance.

       The Mad King pushes his pelvis tight to the lad’s ass and holds it there, preventing him from thrusting back against him like he wants to, and he chuckles when he sees the hero quivering. He pets his fingers down the length of Vav’s spine and leans forward to draw his earlobe between his teeth. “If you wanted it this bad you should have just told me, _Gavin_.”

       Vav visibly quakes at the use of his name. “Please,” he gasps.

       The villain makes a noise that borders on a growl, his head falling forward until his forehead presses between the hero’s shoulder-blades. “I **love** hearing you beg for me.”

       “Please,” Vav sobs, and that’s all it takes before deft fingers are pulling at the zipper of his suit and drawing it down his back in a single, quick motion that leaves him entirely exposed. He feels a warm palm slide against his ass, hears an obscenely wet sound somewhere close to his ear, and that’s all the warning he gets before two fingers push into him. He chokes on his cry and hears a deep voice in his ear telling him how good he is, how well he’s doing, and it makes him feel a little better.

       He’s fucking _tight_ , but the Mad King doesn’t know what he was expecting--he’s actually delighted by the fact. The pounding on the door is getting more intense, the chair and other objects that Vav had haphazardly piled in front of the entrance beginning to shake with the force of the officers’ efforts. He doesn’t have much time so he doesn’t relent (he doubts Vav will mind); he slides his fingers deeper and deeper, until he can crook them just right and find the spot that makes the hero nearly scream.

       Vav’s hands grip tighter against the cell bars and his knees shudder with the effort it takes to remain standing. He already feels like he’s close and they’ve barely started, but he can’t say anything, can’t form any words because it feels _so fucking good_ \--he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this good before, doesn’t see how it could _possibly_ get better until he hears a heavy thump behind him. Was that--? Did he just drop to his knees? He turns his head just in time to see the Mad King’s devious grin and then he feels warm breath against his ass cheek. The fingers leave him and he makes a devastated noise, but then there’s the undeniable feel of a tongue pressing flat against him and he’s pretty fucking sure he would have fallen over if not for the Mad King’s strong hand on his thighs holding him up.

       The Mad King eats him out like a fucking pro, the exaggerating slurping and sucking noises making Vav feel light-headed--or that might be the stimulation from lips and tongue and fingers and, Jesus _fuck,_ it feels like heaven. The villain leans away from the hero suddenly. “Ryan,” he says quickly. “Scream it for me.”

       The hero doesn’t have any time to question why a super villain would tell him, a hero, his real name, because that mouth goes right back to work against him and a tongue presses inside of him alongside a thick finger. That finger curls against his prostate again and suddenly he’s screaming _Ryan, Ryan, Ryan_ and coming all over the front of his suit.

       The Mad King stands (Vav is pretty sure he hears his knees crack as he does), reaches up, winds his fingers through the hero’s wild hair, and yanks his head back, hard. “I can’t tell you where your friend is, Vav,” he whispers into the hero’s ear. “If the Corpirate moved his weapon from the mayor’s office then it’s likely that he’s onto us; he’ll have your pretty little friend hidden away somewhere I’d never be able to find her.”

       It’s not what Vav wants to hear, it’s actually the _last_ thing he wants to hear, and somewhere in his mind there’s a part of his brain screaming that at him but right now, in the present, his ears are still ringing with the force of his orgasm. He slumps against the bars and nods his head slowly. He should be pissed, because this was all for _professional_ reasons and now it’s not, now he offered himself to the Mad King and got off for what? The villain has no information for him, so there's no reason they should have done what they did. He should be pissed.

       He’s not.

 

**V.**

       He hears shouting and sirens close-by but he doesn’t think much of it.

       They had managed to find Hilda, had managed to stop the Corpirate’s plans to take over the world--X-Ray and Vav had somehow saved the day yet again. He told himself that that was it, that he got what he wanted, that there was no reason to even be _thinking_ about visiting the prison anymore but there was a piece of himself that felt like it was missing no matter how many days passed.

       So he does what he has to do, not the heroic choice but what he needs for himself. He sneaks into Hilda’s lab, steals the equipment he needs (he thinks it’s what he needs at least, it’s kind of hard to tell which of her inventions does what), and heads to the prison. He thinks about just getting in the same way he had before, by slowing down all the guards and simply walking in, but he knows the Mad King--Ryan-- won’t like it as much as the other idea he has in mind.

       So he stands outside the prison in the dark, pressing buttons on different gadgets until he eventually finds what he’s looking for--a bright red laser that cuts through the brick wall like butter.

       The Mad King is standing on the other side of the wall with his arms crossed casually, looking almost as if he had been waiting for Vav to show up.

       He might have been because as soon as Vav drops the laser-gun he strolls towards the hero with his signature smirk. “Took you long enough,” he says, and then he catches Vav by the back of his neck and drags him forward into a staggering kiss.

       Vav gives him a lopsided grin and grabs his hand. “We really need to get out of here before they notice that you’re--” As if on cue the prison sirens begin to sound loudly. “Bollocks.”

       “Don’t worry,” the Mad King assures. He holds out his hand and a broken, golden crown sails through the air into his grasp.

       Vav watches him place the crown on his head and he feels his own breath get caught in his throat because, _Christ_ , it’s a good look on him; the man looks like he was born to wear a crown. Despite the ringing sirens and the thudding of approaching boots nearby, Vav can’t help giving a little bow. “My liege.” The Mad King gives a grin that borders on crazed but Vav doesn’t pay it any mind--actually, he kind of likes it; it makes his heart beat in a way it hasn't since the last time he saw the man.

       Guards round the corner and stare with shock at the Mad King and the superhero that stands next to him--the superhero who isn’t trying to apprehend the escaped villain. It doesn’t seem to compute with them that Vav is holding the instrument that had been used to cut through the stone wall; they lie dead on the ground before they have much of a chance to figure out what’s really happening.

       Vav stares at the guards, the innocent civilians that the Mad King had just killed right in front of him, and feels close to nothing. And it’s so _freeing_. He feels like he's finally alive, like he can finally be himself and not who everyone else wants him to be. He's spent so long living in the shadow of X-Ray and Hilda, of their hilarity and cunning and genius, spent so long trying to be a good hero, someone who everyone looked up to, someone who kids (including himself) grew up reading about--only now is he beginning to realize that that's not _him_ , it's not who he really is, and that maybe what he needed all along was to take a look at the other side of life. He threads his fingers through Ryan’s--the man who has saved him, who has helped him realize who he is, _his_ Mad King--and, as the man gives his hand a squeeze and those eyes (his absolute **favorite** shade of blue) meet his, wonders how he ever thought their relationship was ever strictly professional to begin with.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel filthy. This is just 20 pages of self-indulgent smut and I love it.


End file.
